


To Make a Cat Laugh

by BlanketFortAvenger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Transformation, Bacon, Bastet is an original villain, Be Nice to Clint Barton, Blood and Injury, Cat Tony Stark, Complete, Curses, Explicit Language, Fluff, Good Loki, Human Loki, Loki Feels, M/M, Magic-Users, Minor Original Character(s), Nick Fury is Not Amused, No Angst, Not Beta Read, Rating May Change, Ridiculous, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tags May Change, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tony Feels, Warnings May Change, Whoops maybe a little angst, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlanketFortAvenger/pseuds/BlanketFortAvenger
Summary: Tony Stark is cursed by an ancient Egyptian goddess. He awakes to find he's got a tail and nine lives; when both of these are threatened by the metropolis dangers of Manhattan, an unlikely saviour comes to his rescue. Is this a charity case, or has he been catnapped?





	1. Chapter 1

Tony had woken up in amongst the throng of New York pedestrian traffic – naked. It certainly wasn’t one of his finest moments, but it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar situation for him. This time was special though. Of course, like many special not-first times, it was because of the girl. He hoped it wasn’t anything quite so kinky, but the suggestion of collars did readily surface at the forefront of his mind. What made this time special, was that no one payed him so much as a moment’s notice. He didn’t think Manhattan was that acclimatised to him yet. He was surrounded by ankles. Feet that had little to no regard for his well-being, nor the fact that he had probably just saved all their lives. The panic of what had happened to him hadn’t quite sank in, being too busy trying to avoid the stiletto heel about to crush his tail. Tony dodges and weaves from foot to foot, tripping up business investors too busy talking on their phones to see him.

“Damn cat.” One of them growls, kicking out and Tony wants to use his newly adopted claws to shred his bespoke three piece. Instead he curls into the blind spot of a street corner where everyone avoids walking. Pulled securely into himself within the safe zone, Tony examines his paws. The pads are a little scuffed from skittering around on the pavement all day and they burn annoyingly. The fur around them is grimy and sodden from the filth filled puddles that lined the gutters. The tabby brown now darkened with dirt, somehow, he knew it was lacking its usual honey hue under the ashen stripes.

 _“Fucking magic users”_ Tony hisses – actually hisses. Obviously, the villainess had either fled or been captured, as New York was back to its unconcerned and fast-paced hum. Through the waves of people Tony scans the street for signs, buses, anything, to let him know where he is. After being hit with the spell, he had fallen from a height above the buildings that would have made even Hawkeye nervous. He could honestly be anywhere.

“You should be honoured…” The Cleopatra-esque sorceress had yelled, manically laughing. “…that I should bestow upon you such a sacred form.” Tony had ducked under as she swung her flail, but was late in noticing the aura charging around her crook. A whirling, purple tunnel of miasma like energy. It leapt toward him as he tried to spin out of the way, but it had just caught his left side. Apparently, it was enough and Tony quickly lost consciousness. Somewhere between falling and waking up, Tony and the suit had been parted and he wonders how in hell he survived the fall without it. He didn’t think the old ‘cats always land on their feet’ adage extended to unconscious felines – and anyway he wasn’t even a real cat. The location of the suit was his biggest concern, short of his new feline form. He hoped desperately that it was in safe hands. If it wasn’t being analysed by any nefarious evildoers, Jarvis would have flown it back to the tower on autopilot; and so, it would be completely pointless to go searching for it himself. The best course of action would be to return to the tower. Which at this rate was going to take all nine of his lifetimes – all the more reason to carry on.

Tony makes a dash to the edge of the street where he haphazardly jumps around a puddle. He glances both ways and spots a crossing, but it’s so packed with people he’s convinced it’ll be safer to cross where he is. Quite unnaturally – as he is of course, Tony Stark – he is wrong. Maneuvering between the cars is easy. New York traffic is as terrible as always, and the cars are mostly at a standstill, making for a simple crossing. With the opposite road curb in sight, Tony is about to make the last leap across the storm drain when a sound frantically rings out nearby. A cyclist, speeding down the lane toward him. A fucking bicycle! That’s what threatens his life. Tony is tensing hopefully in flight rather than fight, when two hands are wrapped around his middle and he’s being pulled up out of harm’s way.  His whole world spins with the sudden new angle, but it’s much closer to what he usually sees, that it evens out quickly. The chest he is being held to swells as it inhales deeply and then deflates, a relieved sigh washing through his fur. Tony thinks he can agree with the sentiment. When his appreciated saviour speaks however, it’s threateningly familiar and too close, much too close. It’s so close Tony can feel the words through his flank and the exasperated huff that follows. He feels his ears flatten and his tail flicker, as he snaps his head back to look up into too green eyes.

“Foolish creature.”

 _“Of fucking course.”_ Tony thinks but it comes out as a dejected whine. Loki must find it all very amusing because he laughs. One of the god’s hands comes up to card through the fur at the base of his neck and Tony’s tail flickers in mounting agitation.

“No collar.” He murmurs.

 _“Oh, fuck no, you sadistic bastard!”_ Tony whines Louder this time, squirming in Loki’s hold and digging his claws into a forearm.

“None of that.” Loki gives him a gentle whack on the nose but it makes the back of Tony’s eyes sting and he ceases his struggling. “Good.” Loki praises, scratching behind one of Tony’s ears and despite his involuntary compulsion to relax at the contact, he doesn’t break his disapproving glare.

 _“Why me?”_ Tony meows in conflicted protest but Loki only chuckles.


	2. Chapter 2

He had fought Loki tooth and claw, hissing insults and threats, all the way to an apartment building on the outer edge of Midtown. Loki had taken to carrying Tony by the scruff of his neck and upon seeing the building, Tony’s curiosity overwhelms his irritation at the injustice. The building was five storeys of exposed brick and almost charm, set apart slightly in height from those around it. They’d taken the stairs instead of the elevator, and Loki currently has Tony tucked under one arm as he tries to unlock the door. He’s beginning to think that Loki’s Allspeak doesn’t extend to cats – that, or he’s being ignored.

Loki reaches around the doorway as he steps into the dim apartment. The lights flick on, and Tony notes their amber warmth and the two small windows that are the only sources of natural light. The size and lack of windows suggests a cheaper apartment, but it’s furnished fit for royalty – or more specifically, a fallen prince. There are large wooden book shelves spanning one wall, full of paper knowledge. The furniture is an eclectic mix of anything pre-1940’s. A Louis xv style loveseat sits in the centre of the open kitchen-living room, facing a CRT box TV that is at least 12 years old. Tony winces. Under foot there’s a sprawling woven rug with a fig leaf design, and thrown upon the settee is a very elegant looking dark fur. Tony suspects that it is real, though it is so large he has no idea what animal it could be from. A monster bear at least. Noting the fur, Tony searches for a heater as Loki carries him toward the kitchen; there is none that Tony can see, though there are heavy drapes set apart at the windows to keep out the cold. 

 _'Oh, I’m going to shred those.’_ Tony thinks, and it’s mostly his human mind.

He’s placed on top of the dining table. It’s small and would only seat two comfortably, but it’s nicely decorated. The legs and edging has deep-set carving of Gregorian knots and a twisting, looping design. The wooden surface is old and well worn, but not antique. He wraps his tail around his legs unconsciously as he paws at its rough grain; watching cautiously as his enemy washes his hands, makes tea, and moves around the apartment with an obvious familiarity. Tony was used to the sleek sheen of metals and knew the different materials at sight; still, he could recognise the telling red lustre of mahogany immediately. He’d spent enough time staring at the familiar timber, whilst being reprimanded from behind heavy doors, or pushed into chairs at long executive tables. A heavy box is placed in front of him and it jerks him from his reverie. Tony looks up, his tail flickering anxiously as Loki sits down at the table.

“I hope you are content, cat.” Loki says, over-enunciating the last word with a barely there annoyance. He seems to be assessing Tony’s intentions, to which Tony lies down.

 _“Very.”_ Tony snarks sarcastically, as he tucks his paws underneath him. The emotion is lost, as his words translate to a rolling mew. Curling his tail around his compact body, he eyes Loki in challenge. Loki scoffs and opens the box.

Peering in, Tony can see that it’s a basic, home first-aid kit. Pulling out some antiseptic cream and a box of band-aids, Loki’s attention leaves Tony. He begins by applying the cream to the scratches and bite marks that mar his pale skin; from his forearms, down his wrists, and across the backs of his hands and fingers. Tony inspects the crisscrossing of red lacerations that he himself inflicted, slightly proud. He’d done quite a number on the god, more in fact, than he thinks he’s ever done as Iron Man. The thought makes him pause, there had been a suspicious lack of activity from Loki, and the Avengers hadn’t had to divert a single of his schemes lately. The scratches weren’t healing, not the way Tony knew they were meant to. Some of the marks were almost 20 minutes old and they looked just as angry and aggravated as the others. To say nothing of the way the god was carefully tending to each one. Methodically cleaning, disinfecting and covering each, until his hands were covered in the soft, false flesh of band-aids.

“Much better.” Loki hums to himself as he finishes, packing up the box and putting it away. Tony wants to argue. Loki obviously wasn’t healing properly, and apparently wasn’t as aware of the dangers of infection. Probably never had to be, before now. Well, anyone would be lucky to be bitten by Tony Stark, usually it’s kinkier, but he thinks Loki is more fortunate; simply for the fact that Tony doesn’t have rabies. In any other case, Loki should really have gone to see a doctor. The last thing they need is Loki to be even more bag-of-cats crazy. Still, this was interesting information. If he was going to be held captive here, then he might as well do some reconnaissance. Here, being a small apartment on a corner in Midtown; sandwiched between a 24hour-diner, and some old and imminently derelict townhouses. It looked well lived in, and it obviously belonged to Loki, who had been here a while. He seemed too familiar with the place for it to be a throwaway safe house, which could only mean –  Loki had no idea, just who he had invited into his home. Brazened by the revelation, and without so much as standing, Tony stretches out a paw. He locks eyes with Loki, who narrows his. Loki doesn’t go to stop him immediately, even though he so easily could. Almost as if they’re testing one another. Tony slowly and purposefully pushes Loki’s mug of tea toward the edge of the table. It’s the standoff of the century. Loki’s gaze intent on intimidating him into surrender. Tony bats at the mug. Loki dives to catch it, but his no longer godly reflexes, are too slow. There’s a sloshing smash. Tony’s tail flicks back and forth in content smugness.

“By the Norns…” Loki sighs. “You are such an eloquent house guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. If all goes to plan, the next will feature more of Tony's feline antics, and maybe some fluff.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki keeps the front door locked and latched. No chance of Tony unlocking it without an extra two feet in height, and opposable thumbs. To make matters worse, he’s taken to fending Tony off with a broom, in order to leave the apartment. Despite his lack of divine reflexes, and Tony’s new-found agility, Loki is unsurprisingly talented with a staff-like weapon. So, in petty and thoroughly satisfying retaliation, Tony has taken to doing what he does naturally, as man or feline. Being unignorably destructive, and a reckless danger to himself. For the most part, Loki doesn’t seem to be all that concerned about him being there. It’s in these moments that Tony works on making his presence explicitly known.

Loki had gone and left him – Tony would find out later that he had gone to buy cat food – and Tony had set to work exploring. He wandered through the kitchen and living room, getting a closer look at all the things he’d seen when first brought here. He went to inspect the TV with biased judgment and much scrutiny; promptly hiding the remote in one of the lower kitchen draws. Next, he finds the bathroom. To avoid any future loss of dignity or wounded pride, Tony quickly adapts to using the toilet in his new form. He wanders into what must be Loki’s bedroom.

Lavish, much like the living room, Tony eyes the forest green coverlet. He thinks about setting to work with his claws, but he has a much stronger desire to curl up amongst the silken sheets and woollen throws. Honestly, his fascination with the fabrics is almost trance-like. They look so comfortable and warm. When he paws at the edge of the coverlet, the fabric is cold and clean in a way that promises to hold his heat wonderfully. He settles for dragging the whole ensemble onto the floor, and rolling around in the dark, luscious fabrics to ensure an even coating of fine, white and amber hairs. This is where Loki finds him upon returning home; Tony worn out from his escapades, having taken a nap. Tony blinks lazily up at the simmering anger on Loki’s face, and stretches leisurely. Loki’s voice is low, and calm in a way that warns of danger.

“I heard a peculiar saying recently, that assured me, there’s several ways to flay your kind.”

 _“Oh shit.”_ Tony tries to flee, but Loki grabs him by the scruff, bringing him up to dangle face to face with the god.

“What in Hel’s name do you think you’re doing?” Loki chastises, carrying Tony from the room. He heads for the kitchen. Tony squirms, yowling in frustration and mounting panic. Loki did know that most mortals didn’t actually skin cats, right? Tony remembers the unnaturally large fur draped across the settee.

 _‘I’m about to become a fucking stole!’_ He thinks, when instead of an unescapable and excruciating death, Loki places him on the floor next to two bowls. Tony drops to a crouch and looks up at Loki.

“Eat.” Loki commands. Tony looks back at the bowl of shredded, canned chicken. It smelt weird. He looks back up at Loki.

 _“You’re kidding, right?”_ Tony meows, dispassionately incredulous. If he could raise an eyebrow, or scoff, he would. He turns his back on the bowl, and saunters out of the room.

Reminded that Loki was a wrathful and villainous Norse deity, Tony spent the next few hours lurking around corners, working on his stealth and surveillance skills. He thinks that Nat and Clint would be proud. Loki went about, what Tony can only assume is his usual business; he seemed completely unhindered by the prowling, yellow eyes that watched him, poorly hidden in the shadows. Tony was certain the god was casually watching him also, and he kept his distance.

That is, until Loki walks over to his private library, pulls out several large books, before setting himself down in front of the settee. Curiosity having got the better of the cat, like it most often did to unfortunate ends, Tony walks over to the once-god’s side. Despite their ancient appearance, any dust on the huge leather-bound tomes, had only just settled. One might simply assume that Loki dusted regularly. Except, being a cat meant you were a lot closer to everything, and Loki didn’t dust all that well. Tony thinks that their excuse for poor cleaning abilities is the same, the prince simply never had to before. The lack of dust, means these books must be read often. They’re spell-books if Tony has ever seen one, and he wonders if Loki must miss his magic.

The sorcerer seems to have no qualms about his guest approaching, and sitting primly beside the books; Tony intent on deciphering, or at least memorising some of the runes. Loki seemed to be cross-referencing between three or four books, having spread them open on the floor around him. The god’s hair was falling into his eyes as he leant forward, and Tony watched strangely interested, as Loki brushed it back behind his ear. Loki’s long legs were crossed, and he leant over them to study the pages closely. The god had even started taking notes, which made Tony ridiculously jealous. So, while Loki was too busy engrossed in two books to his right, Tony went and curled up on the largest to the god’s left. Making it impossible for him to continue, without moving the lounging cat.

Unfortunately, Tony didn’t foresee just how absorbed Loki was in his current predicament. He didn’t mind all that much that his vindictiveness hadn’t been immediately realised. The book’s pages were warmer than the floor, and they smelled of old parchment and ink. It wasn’t a smell Tony was at all familiar with, but it was relaxing. He still wanted to try and understand some of the runes and diagrams, but his attention is shortly thwarted by his fruitless efforts, and his mind seems to still. The parchment beneath him is soft and wilted in a way that suggests of well-worn, animal skin. It’s soaked up enough of his body heat that he finds himself pleasantly warm. The book is big enough, that he doesn’t have to curl as tightly into himself, but can loosen his muscles. It had been a long day after all. It was only that morning that he’d been fighting a battle high above the New York city skyline. Not to mention the chaos that followed. The light in the room has dimmed, the sun having set some hours ago; a baroque, stained-glass lamp weakly offering it’s gentle, syrupy light. Tony blinking sleepily, looks over to the god still engrossed in his study.

 _“This isn’t good light for reading.”_ He thinks as his eyes slip closed. Tony wasn’t aware he had made any sound, but it had been enough to draw the other’s attention. He was already asleep when tentative fingertips slipped into the warm fur behind one of his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister's cat sat on my laptop through writing the second half. Do you know how hard it is to type through tail fur? He's an inconvenience and an inspiration. This fic isn't beta'd yet, but I do try to edit; the cat isn't entirely to blame.


	4. Chapter 4

When Tony opens his eyes, it’s to a very unfamiliar view of the city. The sun is high enough that it’s chased the shadows off the small desperado apartment building, and perched itself on top of the distant cityscape; the new day warming his fur. Amongst the high-rises, there is one, more easily distinguished than the rest. It’s his home, his tower. For a moment, he feels an elated sort of hope. A relief he’s come to associate mostly with close calls. Returning home, with everyone safe, from missions that may have gotten a little hairy. This mid-morning day-dream withers away, when he remembers that the reason he’s not already on his way home, is because things have gotten a little hairy in a completely different sense.

Tony looks down at his still, grubby paws; flexing and retracting his claws. Instead of lingering on his disappointment, Tony focuses on his other senses. The one’s, that since his transformation, had been magnificently enhanced. Tony wonders if this is what it is always like for Steve. Thanks to the heavenly scent wafting through the apartment, it was Tony’s sense of smell that demanded his attention first. Second was his hearing, as his stomach rumbled in hunger. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and the unmistakeable smell and sound of sizzling bacon was beckoning to him from a room away. Tony gets to his feet, stretching and arching his back, only to find that he is still perched on an open book. A spell-book that he must have been slumbering on, when it was carried over to the windowsill. Tony’s ears prick up, as he hears someone pull out a chair in the kitchen.

 _‘Right, Loki.’_ Tony thinks, his tail flickering uneasily. He jumps down, and is pleasantly surprised when he barely makes a sound upon landing. Tony pads quietly into the kitchen, but Loki is sat at the table nursing a mug, and lifts his head when Tony enters.

“Good morning, pet.” Loki greets, and somehow despite his morning affability, and complete unawareness of Tony’s situation, he makes it sound utterly degrading.

 _“Pet? Wow I’ve been promoted.”_ Tony grumbles half-heartedly; he’s much too focused on the plate sat at Loki’s left elbow. Using the opposite unoccupied chair, Tony jumps up onto the table, and strolls over to the hardly unsupervised breakfast. A hand lifts the plate away and out of his reach.

“It’s your own fault that you are hungry.” Loki chuckles. “This is mine.” Tony sits. He wasn’t going anywhere until he had food – human food. He might settle for one of those little breakfast sausages, but Loki better give him something, or he was going to lose another mug. Tony looked briefly to said mug, and saw the dark liquid of life that he would never dream of wasting.

 _‘That’ll do.’_ He thinks; he’s certainly gone longer with less. Tony dips his head into the mug faster than Loki can pull it away, but only manages to lap up a few measly drops.

 _“Hey!”_ Tony argues cattily.

“I am almost certain, caffeine cannot be good for you…” Loki says. He looks ridiculous, holding both mug and plate up at his sides. “…and even if I often condone such behaviour, I don’t need you causing any more mischief with the extra energy it might give you.” Tony eyes Loki thoughtfully, before walking the few steps forward, to stand right before him. Then, with more than a little bravery and perhaps recklessness, stretches across the gap between tabletop and Loki. Paws pressing against green satin pyjama shirt; the god is pinned.

 _“Going to have to put one of those down…”_ Tony eyes the mug and plate each, before turning to look smugly up at Loki. _‘…Make your move reindeer games.’_

“Get down… You intolerable…” Loki goes to stand, and Tony slips. Instinct has his claws digging into Loki’s shirt. Loki quickly reconsiders, and glares at Tony. “I will have you beg for your next meal.” Loki scoffs. What’s strange, is he seems more amused than angry. Regardless, Loki relinquishes the coffee, but before Tony can get to it, a crispy piece of perfect bacon is being waved under his nose to distract him. Tony happily sinks his teeth into the greasy meat without hesitation. Loki uses his now free hand to push him across the table; Tony is more than happy to jump down and finish his prize on the spare seat.

After their shared breakfast – in which Loki had relinquished a couple more morsels, of his own free will no less – Loki had left, and Tony set about escaping. The door locked, and sufficiently guarded when it was open, and the windows would be too heavy to lift, even if they weren’t locked; Tony acknowledges that the best way might be to make contact first, and wait for rescue.

After much searching, and even more affronted pacing, Tony comes to the realisation that Loki doesn’t own a single Stark-branded device in the entire apartment. The TV is so analogue that it would potentially be useful, if he only had hands and an electrical toolkit. So, his best bet is probably the landline. The landline, rotary-dial phone that sits on the tall coffee table by the couch.

 _“Why is everything so old?”_ Tony whines, making his way into the lounge room. It’s going to take him a fair few tries to get the number right. After all this is over, he’s going to gift Loki with all new tech; with big accessible buttons, and internet capability.

 _‘Wait… that’s not right.’_ When this is all over, Loki is going to be in Shield custody. Probably imprisoned in an interrogation room so boring, even Tony would be begging for ancient tech to keep him sane.

 _‘Damn did Loki draw a bad hand.’_ Picking him up, thinking he was just saving a grubby stray. Next thing he knows, Shield is knocking down his door, and putting him in handcuffs.

 _“Oh, and that fucking gag!”_ Tony cringes. Trying to wipe the thought out of his mind, by rubbing his paws over his ears.

 _‘No. Think about all the shit the asshole pulls, just to fuck with everyone.’_ Tony jumps up on the settee and eyes the phone, but the determination doesn’t come. Saying that, Loki never purposefully hit them where it hurt. Not since the invasion. The god knows so many of their weaknesses, but doesn’t exploit them. There were no low blows, or blindsides; the different between being a very public nuisance, and being an enemy. That’s a line that the god hadn’t crossed again.

 _“He’s not a god anymore…”_ Tony sighs resignedly, looking away from the phone. He thinks that Loki would take his capture, quite personally. While Tony doesn’t doubt that Loki could cause quite a bit of damage as a human, serving Loki up so Shield can get their talons in him, would be such a dick move.

Tony ponders. How can he get out of here, preferably guilt-free, with his limbs and pride intact?

 _‘I’ll think of something.’_ Tony reassures himself, jumping off the settee to go and cause some chaos. He understands why Loki does it; it’s quite cathartic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit late, I apologize. Most my time was focused on arranging my future living accommodations, and injuring myself while moving heavy boxes. Some advice: for-the-love-of-Loki, lift with your legs. I Hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite his lack of magic and godhood, Loki still retained all the elegance, and regal litheness from their previous encounters. On more than one occasion, Tony had made remarks – of varying levels of flirtation – about the god's limber abilities; but such divine coordination can only be achieved with familiarity to divinity. As a mortal, it seemed it was almost something of a disadvantage. 

Loki moves as a wave through the kitchen, and Tony watches hypnotically, the smell and warmth of dinner coaxing him to settle on the countertop and observe. Loki had tried shooing him off several times, but eventually gave in once he realised that Tony wasn't trying to steal any of the chicken searing in the frypan. Loki looked like he enjoyed cooking, and Tony simply enjoyed the harmonious movement and domesticity, his own tail swishing along with a silent rhythm. That is, until he watched in horror as Loki grabbed the bare handle of a saucepan; obviously having forgotten that it would cause him any inconvenience.

Loki pulled back, hissing in pain, and proceeds to just stand in the centre of the room. He's staring at his palm as if waiting for it to heal, a look of abject loss on his face. Tony jumps to his paws. Balancing along the sliver of counter by the sink. He bats determinedly at the chrome fittings of the cold water tap, until the spout relinquishes a calm but steady stream. The trickster turns to his audience with dejected humiliation, but makes no move toward the water. Tony rolls his eyes, and breaths an unimpressed huff; careful to give no sign of the sympathy that's overwhelmed him. Tony sinks his teeth into the sleeve of Loki's injured hand, and tugs it toward the water. The god gives the cat a curious look, but seems to be too pensive to think on it much, or protest. The two proceed to sit quietly and stare at each other, until Loki must wrap his burn, so he can finish cooking the meal. When he sits down to eat, Tony has situated himself on the dining chair opposite, and is doing his best to look both deserving and pitiful.

"Smarter than I give you credit for." Loki hums, gently tossing him a piece of chicken. "I suppose you've earned it."

After the two have eaten, Tony follows Loki into the living room to watch TV. Loki has been decidedly avoiding Tony’s eye, taking his seat at the edge of the settee.

 _“Someone’s embarrassed.”_ Tony murmurs, before jumping up to settle on the other cushion. Loki sighs melodramatically, almost in perfect response to his teasing.

“You have no idea...” Loki moans querulous, his face crestfallen into a facade of frustration. “…No idea how pitiful it is. To be forced into a being so much smaller and weaker than yourself.”

 _“Wanna bet?”_ Tony mewls non-committedly, and it draws the god’s attention. He looks at Tony for a moment, considering. Loki leans slightly toward him, extending his uninjured hand with the intention of running his long, slender fingers through the fur between Tony’s ears. Tony flinches. From this angle Loki's hands are huge, and Tony has never been fond of people touching, with the obvious exceptions. Exceptions he shouldn't be making for Loki, no matter how much he wants to. His ears flatten against his skull in annoyance - mostly at himself. Loki halts. His brow furrowing in a slight hurt and disappointment, he withdraws his hand and sighs.

“If I were a god you’d let me pet you.” He announces in a dejected monotone as the two eye each other warily. 

 _‘It’s because you’re not, that I haven’t tried to shred your stupidly handsome face yet.’_ Tony thinks, flickering his tail and startling himself with the realisation that he does think of Loki as such. _‘It’s those fucking god-blessed cheekbones.’_ Tony deduces though he’s staring, scrutinising the endless depths of stunning green that speak of a prevalent sorrow. Loki’s eyes are veiled by the darkest and most elegant eyelashes Tony has ever seen; and his – admittedly admiring – analysis of them, is broken when Loki blinks. Tony can see the dampness clinging to the outermost edges of Loki’s longest lashes, and Tony takes in the whole of Loki’s expression.

“Don’t be stupid.” Loki says a little sniffily, and without prompt. He looks away, using the edge of his thumb to wipe the moisture from his lower lashes. “No one would be upset simply being denied by a common cat. It’s just this ridiculous mortal form. It’s prone to allergies or some such. This is probably your fault.” Loki concludes grumbling. “It’s not like I expected to be any less unwanted now than before.” Tony slumps slightly at the loneliness of the admission. 

 _‘Damn It.’_ He knows how that feels, more-so than Loki would realise. Sure, he has a team now and everyday he felt a little more like he belonged, and a little less like he was just a convenient means. Even now, Tony knew the Avengers would be searching for him, concerned not for their pay-cheques, but for their friend. 

Spending the better part of yesterday as a stray cat however, had given him a grim reminder. Being kicked around and trying desperately to avoid being underfoot, reminded him too closely of his childhood. Tony wonders what would have become of him if had been left to fend for himself – but today, Loki had been there. Sure, the god didn’t know who he had inadvertently saved – captured – but it was obvious at least, that the god wasn’t the _‘madness for the sake of chaos’_ villain, like they had previously thought. Loki had seen fit to pluck him out of harm’s way, to make sure he was safe and fed. Loki who discreetly lifted him, into the early sunshine, to make sure he was warm. Tony wondered if there was anyone out there who would do the same for the god.

Loki is slumped to his other side now. His elbow on the sofa armrest and cheek rested on his hand as he watches TV, his other hand resting on his thigh. Tony lifts himself up onto his paws, stretches, and pads his way across the cushions before he can change his mind. In his best attempt at casual but comforting, he flops down and tucks himself next to the length of Loki’s leg, leaning into the warmth. He curls his paws underneath him and tunes into the news reporter’s introduction. From the corner of his vision he sees Loki’s hand twitch, and he braces himself for the awkwardness. Loki lifts his hand cautiously, settling it gently on his shoulder blades. Loki doesn’t move it but to press a firm, gentle pressure into the muscles there, and to flex and relax his fingers in the fur. It feels glorious. By far the best shoulder rub Tony has ever had and he quickly relaxes. Especially, when Loki’s hand precedes to apply this pressure down the length of his spine. Tony sighs heavily but it translates into a deep audible rumble through his chest. Loki chuckles lightly and Tony can’t help but feel even more comfortable at the ebbing reverberations of his own purring.

“New York Avenger and Former CEO of Stark Industries, Anthony Stark…” Tony’s attention flickers to the TV before he slowly turns to gauge Loki’s reaction. “…is still missing after yesterday’s attack on the Avengers Headquarters...” The news presenter continues to list the damages and to reassure that excluding the possibility of him, there were no casualties. Loki doesn’t look all that invested, but there is a slight crease in his brow and his hand has ceased its movement through Tony’s fur. “The perpetrator who identified herself as Bastet, and claims to be the incarnation of the ancient Egyptian goddess of warfare, was taken into custody. The Iron Man suit was later retrieved by the Avengers, and they are working with authorities to determine Anthony Stark’s whereabouts.” The presenter hands off to the finance section who immediately prattles on about how this might affect SI share prices.

“Another pathetic pretender. She is no god.” Loki huffs as he resumes stroking along Tony’s flank. Tony surrenders boneless, to the contact and rests knowing all is relatively well. The suit was safe and his friends were looking for him. They were never going to find him like this, but he was a cat – not dead. He’d plan a way to get back to the tower and let them know who he is.

 _“Tomorrow.”_ Tony assures himself, as a hand wraps around his middle pulling him up into a two-handed cradle that Tony is too close to sleep to protest.

“Bedtime.” Loki announces quietly, walking into the bedroom and placing Tony on the bed. Tony practically sinks into the mattress. His legs not withholding his weight on the soft mattress. 

 _"Yeeeeess."_ Tony meows in gratitude at the surprising invitation to indulge in the divine, and recently washed comforter. He pads at it, consciously not using his claws, before sinking down, and unashamedly curls up in the coolness of lush pillows. Sleep takes him as the bed dips somewhere off to his left and the lamplight succumbs to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters just keep gradually getting longer ahaha. Fun fact: Bastet is known as both; the lioness goddess of warfare, and as the cat goddess, often associated with protection. Hope you enjoyed.


	6. Chapter 6

_“What are you doing?”_ Tony asks padding into the living room, his meow elongated by the yawn that quickly follows. Loki is sat cross-legged on the floor of the room. The coffee table has been moved aside, and the settee pushed further back. Around him are mounds of archaic clutter. Old books; parchments; fading loose-leaf notes in blue pen that are evidently Loki’s; bowls; candles; a pile of twigs that look like tinder, but are painted with black rings.

_“What are you up to?”_ Tony questions again, curiosity and suspicions engaged. Loki doesn’t answer, still muttering as he reads through a list. Tony flops down on his side, gently batting at one of the nearest bowls, just so it tilts enough for him to see inside. It’s full of a dull red powder that looks a little like paprika, dispersed throughout there are larger chucks of a clear red stone. It smells strong, earthy, and sweet. Tony thinks it’s a resin that’s been mostly ground down.

Rolling over, his body lolling to the side, Tony can see similar bowls of all different shapes and sizes full of various contents. Some, like the star anise sitting off to the right, he recognises; others, like the viscous, blue syrup that Loki is currently adding to the resin, he really doesn’t. As they mix, they form a deep purple paste. The sweet scent of the resin overpowered by tartaric fumes.

_“God, what is that? Is it corrosive?”_ Tony whines, despite leaning closer to look. _“Should you be wearing a hazmat suit_?” Loki abandons stirring, freeing up a hand to push Tony back.

“You do not want to get this on you.” He warns, and Tony doesn’t need to be told twice. Tony watches him for a while. Lounging on one of the musty books, he watches as the light thrown from the windows, slowly creeps away as the sun rises higher in the sky. He stalks it, getting up every so often to re-position himself in the pool of warmth. His focus never leaves Loki long however. The sorcerer looks the closest to complete that Tony has ever seen him, and hope settles lightly in both their chests.

Loki is now creating a circle using the tinder and sprigs of mint, which smells like temptation. Tony had never been overly fond of the herb, not like this. He wants to live in it. Almost as much as he wants to live in Loki’s laundry hamper. Something he had to begrudgingly admit to, and allow himself on a couple occasions. He definitely – probably – has some feline side effects with this form, because he just wants to roll himself in it, and then curl up forever.

It was his first day as a cat, and he was fine with it, until he realised what it was. It was Loki, Loki’s scent. Tony had whined in exasperation. It was what had drawn Loki’s attention back to him for the first time in hours that day. The god had picked him up, and suddenly the scent was stronger again. Tony couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised before. He had to admit, the scent was comforting, safe, and he had indulged himself a few times since. Tony had woken up in amongst that scent this morning. Drowsily, as he’d stretched in satin sheets, and blindly sought after the warmth that had been there in the night; close and protecting - protected. Finding it missing, was what had eventually woken him. He lay there thinking on the implications of that, before going to seek Loki out. To disperse both the thought, and renewed urge to curl up in Loki’s lap, Tony goes to quite literally nose through the other ingredients. The mint is bad enough, he can only hope Loki doesn’t have any catnip lying around in all of this.

He finds a bowl of petals. The flowers look like chrysanthemum, except entirely too small. They’re about the size of a thumbnail, and they shimmer as if made of gold dust. If Tony had any doubts about what Loki was attempting with all these ingredients, these alone enlighten him – magic. Tony hovers over the bowl and inhales deeply. They smell amazing, metallic and like sunlight. The sudden and involuntary need to sneeze is unavoidable; just like having looked at something too bright. The sneeze startles him in his smaller frame, the petals fluttering up into his face in a haze of gold, as he stumbles back. He feels one of his hind legs bump something solid, but entirely too unstable. 

“No!” Loki yells. Something shatters. Tony freezes.

_“Please let that have been another mug.”_ Tony murmurs, cringing to look over his shoulder and see what damage he has done. Loki is knelt unmoving, his head hung, dark hair hanging down veiling his reaction. In his hands shards of broken glass – no, crystal – a dark green, almost black. _“Oh god, that has to be important.”_ If anything, it’s probably a good thing that Tony is hindering Loki’s magical progress, but as the god sits there shivering minutely, Tony only feels remorse. The shaking of Loki’s shoulders is a little worrisome. Tony is sure it’s just the accumulation of all the frustration he has caused Loki, ready to reveal itself as a destructive ferocity.

Instead of backing away, to save his own skin, he takes a tentative step forward. His ears are flat to his head and tail swaying lowly behind him, he must look the absolute picture of guilty. _“I’m honestly sorry, which is actually very rare. Not that it makes it any more of an excuse…”_ Tony is mumbling as he steps closer. It’s translating as a rumble, like a nervous purr that’s attempting to be placating; to whom, himself or Loki, he is not sure. _“…Or any less of an accident though. Really, I… I’m sorry.”_ Tony finishes stepping well within reaching distance, and Loki lets out a shaky sigh.

“That was our last chance cat.” Loki huffs looking up, cupping his palms to sweep the broken crystal into a pile. “The only object able to focus my magic enough for it to return to me.” He chuckles but it’s far too fragile, like at any moment it will lie shattered amongst the shards in his hands. “With no way for it to pass through the void to find me, we both drift – lost.”

_“Fuck.”_ Tony hisses quietly at himself. There isn’t a hint of anger in Loki’s countenance, only defeat. The same defeat that he has observed lingering around the god since Tony realised that he was mortal.

“Our last chance at something better.” Loki finally looks at Tony, and smiles sadly. Stepping around the broken pieces, Tony curls around Loki’s knees. It’s his best effort at comfort. “It’s only a matter of time before _they_ hunt me down…” Tony flinches. “When they find me, I can’t protect you.”

_“You don’t need to.”_ Tony whines guiltily. _“I won’t let them do anything, okay?”_ He tries to reassure, pacing past Loki’s knees, so that he can rub his flank across them.

“Infuriating mortal magic.” Loki chuckles darkly, picking up a shard of crystal to examine it. “It’s not your fault it’s so… brittle.” He sighs, lifting his other hand to rub soothingly behind one of Tony’s ears. “… but without a vessel to…” Loki trails off, and looks down at Tony, considering.

There’s a long moment where they just watch each other, until Loki seems to have come to a decision. Tony’s ears prick up, and while he’s concerned by the slow mischievous grin lighting Loki’s lips, he’s too enamoured by how much hope lies behind it. When he speaks, Loki’s voice is all dark amusement, but so full of excitement. “I think It’s time you earn your keep.”

_“I’m sure I’m going to regret this…”_ Tony sighs, dropping his head to Loki’s knee in acquiescence. “ _…but it’s not like I can say no when you’re looking at me like that.”_ Loki’s hand falls to the top of his head.

Loki makes quick work of sweeping away the shards of crystal, and re-arranging his ingredients. Tony sits, tail flickering in nervous amusement. He can’t help the swell of admiration he feels seeing Loki’s eagerness. After the circle of tinder and mint has been widened, and the bowls shuffled further away, Loki re-takes his position. He drags Tony into his lap, and Tony goes with the appropriate amount of complaint, for someone not truly adverse to this arrangement. Loki brings a heavy, spell-book closer to them, and as he leans forward to reach for it, Tony bats at his chin. Loki smiles.

“What we need will be in here.” Loki hums, and the sound is so comforting that Tony starts a purr of his own.

Loki makes a quiet sound of victory a minute later, his hand coming up from where he had been absent-mindedly ruffling through Tony’s fur, to smooth out the page. It was all symbols, and indecipherable runes to Tony, but there is a picture. A gold etched frame, with a black, blotted ink, bird perched in the centre of the page. Its wings were spread, but lowered, as if it were just about to take flight. Loki puts the book aside after skimming the page, and wraps his hands around Tony’s middle, lifting him up to eye level.

“If you don’t approve of this, say now.” Loki says succinctly, as if Tony had any idea what he was talking about. When Tony does nothing, but stare back at the god, and bump their foreheads together in general acceptance, Loki laughs. It’s delighted, and the sound is so unbelievably untroubled. Loki sets him down in the centre of the circle.

“Oh.” Tony meows, and it almost sounds human. He doesn’t move. Already he’s rationalised this in his head. _‘Loki won’t hurt him. If he helps Loki, Loki will have his magic back. Loki will be happy. Magic is what got Tony into this mess. Maybe Loki will help get him out of it.’_ His mind gets suck, and starts looping somewhere around ‘Loki will be happy’.

Tony is a little alarmed when the sorcerer takes the bowl of purple sludge, and proceeds to calmly set it on fire. He places the fairly contained flames to the left of the circle. Loki arranges some of the other ingredients around him, and lastly takes two of the small golden flowers. He crushes one between his thumb and forefinger, coating his fingertips in golden pollen, before dragging his thumb down between Tony’s eyes to his nose. Loki does the same to himself, and smiles at Tony.

“Okay.” That’s all the warning he gets, before Loki begins whispering a spell. At first, Tony is captivated by the sound of Loki’s voice, the foreign language drifting in and out of clarity, but something bigger demands his focus.

It feels like he’s only breathing one way. Breathing in, and in. Like air spilling into his lungs, and instead of it being too much, his chest just fills to be empty again. Not like suffocating, or drowning, it’s like he could breathe it all in, everything. It builds and Tony can feel that something won’t let it through. Something is holding it back, as it continues to pool inside him, something has to give; it does. There’s a snap as the energy – magic, he realises distantly - cold, vital, pure, rushes forth on his next breath. Loki gasps, as if all this time he’s only been breathing out on the words of the spell. Tony realises then; this isn’t just a tool, or a weapon. This is a part of Loki, and Tony can’t forgive whoever thought to take that away. It leaves Tony trembling with the residual ice and life in his veins. Loki seems to be in a much similar state, as he pulls Tony against his chest, pushing his face into the fur of Tony’s neck.

“Well done, familiar mine.” Loki huffs into his fur sounding tired, and so content.

_“Well I suppose I prefer that, to ‘Pet’.”_ Tony is purring, and Loki is laughing. Both of which increase in volume when Loki snaps his fingers, and sparks of gold dance out from between them.

“It will return slowly.” Loki says looking down at Tony, but he’s beaming, and Tony can see the tears, glistening on Loki’s cheeks.

_“Can’t wait.”_ Tony purrs; Loki hugs him closer again. In that moment, the only reason Tony wants for being human, is so that Loki might understand when he says… _“This is you. You’re beautiful like this.”_

…and maybe to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been pretty tied up in life recently, sorry about that. As per the pattern of my updates, here is another chapter substantially longer than the last. Sigh. I had fun writing this one, hope you enjoyed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in black, and so terribly sorry I left you for so long. My laptop died, and I finally got my new one today. I'm lucky they were able to retrieve the data off my old one. I present to you, 'Chapter Seven - Lost in the CyberVoid.' Not a misleading title at all. Hope you Enjoy.

The evening news no longer mentions him, surely moved on to more dramatic things, having had no progress in the matter of his disappearance. With just a scant few rotations of the Earth, the world had moved on. Yet, it was within these few – admittedly long – days, that Tony’s entire world had turned upside down.

After his and Loki’s delving into what was presumably ancient witchcraft, they’d spent the better part of yesterday barely separable. Loki would pull him up into a cuddle simply to move rooms, and when his hands were busy, Tony would wrap himself around Loki’s feet. His excuse being that Loki was as unwilling to part from Tony, as he was reluctant to stop using his magic. The whole day, Loki would intermittently turn his hand in a gesture, seemingly for no purpose, but to reassure himself that the embers were still there. His magic would fizzle between his fingertips, like the determined flickers of a spark wheel on an empty lighter. This was something Tony was obliged to observe. _‘For science!’_ Not because he could feel every ounce of energy being pulled through him. Not because of the cold emptiness it left in its wake, making him nuzzle just that closer to Loki’s warmth. Not for the way each time, Loki would sigh with such happy relief, and look down at Tony like he made everything better. The axial tilt is all wrong; a complete pole rotation. Tony’s world view is flipped.

So, the number of people he cared about might have changed to include one more, but topsy or turvy, one thing remained the same. The people who cared about him in return, were no doubt tirelessly looking for him. Also, he really wanted to be human again; so actually, two things remained the same. As much fun as he was having as a feline, he really missed opposable thumbs; his workshop; his friends; his family; his home. Tony curled into himself that evening, his head and heart heavy with decisions to be made.

_“Tomorrow.”_ He told himself. As half-hearted as the sentiment was, this time he meant it. He didn’t notice Loki’s sequential, failing attempts at summoning his magic.

 

Loki had shoved him in a bag. Admittedly Tony had gone somewhat willingly, though indignant. After waking Loki up with non-too-gentle chin biting, he may have arguably deserved it. He was hungry, it was necessary. Tony sat upon the kitchen table as Loki had looked through his duck-egg blue, bubble-edged refrigerator. Peering around Loki’s sceptic form, even Tony could see there was nothing there to eat, but the view hadn’t been all too depressing. Tony had been thoroughly enjoying the way Loki’s emerald, silk pyjamas had pooled in the bow of his back, and hung from his hips. Until Loki had spun on his heels, and waving his hand was suddenly dressed impeccably, if only casually. Tony meowed in congratulations, when short moments later the glamour had failed, and Loki was once again wearing the pyjamas.

“How I miss being able to do that.” Loki laughs, and goes off to get properly dressed. Leaving Tony to wonder how many times in the past he been fighting Loki in nothing but sleepwear. It was somewhat insulting, considering he needed the advanced and magnificent feat of technical engineering genius that was the suit, just to come out of it unscathed. Upon returning Loki was dressed in the same clothes as the glamour, but imperceptibly less put together. His hair was a little more sleep ruffled; a loose thread from his sweater tickled one, just barely visible collarbone; and yet those jeans still managed to hug perfectly. Then Loki had produced a leather satchel, and firmly coaxed Tony into it.

As such, he sat with ears flat against his head in annoyance, as Loki carried him somewhere, presumably to get food. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Not two minutes after leaving Loki’s apartment – and having the sound and smell of New York assault his senses even from within the bag – Loki was already being greeted by a waitress, and being directed to a free booth. They must be in the small diner that was pressed snuggly up against Loki’s apartment building. In the mornings previous, Loki had always cracked the living room window, and Tony would spend a few minutes lounging on the sill. He just liked to breathe in the smell of the fresh morning air, traffic fumes, bacon, fried potato and the glorious grease they were cooked in. Now those things were tenfold, and complimented. Coffee, steak, eggs, pancakes…

_“Waffles..!”_ Tony moans and feels Loki freeze next to him, before hurrying on toward the booth. Sitting down, Loki places the bag next to him, window side.

“If you want food, you’ll have to be quiet.” Loki whispers harshly, though he’s grinning. “Don’t get us kicked out.” The waitress comes and Loki orders a tea, and scrambled eggs with extra bacon. The food arrives quickly, and Loki stealthily opens the bag just wide enough that he can feed Tony pieces of bacon while he reads the newspaper.

The front-page headline reads ‘Iron Man Still Missing’ in offensive bold print. Somehow, It’s the more offensive way of announcing ‘Tony Stark Presumed Dead’. Forget reading between the lines. He’s slightly infuriated by the inconvenience of his pin-like teeth, but mostly his agitation is from the guilt that has returned full force. It seems the Avengers held a press-conference yesterday, to say that they were ‘optimistic’ about his status, but the picture of Steve just looks desperately hopeful. So, Bastet hasn’t revealed anything of her curse, despite what he knows must have been a very thorough Shield ‘interrogation’. Tony swallows his mouthful, and something else is swallowed down too.

_“Will you miss me?”_ Tony asks in the softest mewl he can muster.

Loki hums quietly in answer, discreetly reaching one hand into the bag that Tony nuzzles into; Loki’s expression curious, and concerned. Tony thinks of how close they’ve been for the last couple days. That’s all it’s been; a handful of days, and he already feels this ridiculous. Will Loki be lonely without him? Will he miss him? _‘Miss his pet…’_ He thinks disappointedly. Regardless, Loki has been nothing but kind. Conscious of remaining quiet, Tony leans into Loki’s side through the bag. He’s hoping the reassurance and thanks, translates through the pressure. It would be all for the best. Maybe, once this was all dealt with, he could buy Loki a new cat. Anonymously, kitten on the doorstep, kind of deal. Of course, it would never be as smart as he is. Wouldn’t be able to help if Loki injures himself. At least Tony could make sure it didn’t have rabies first. Would Loki do magic with the new kitten? Tony’s mind halts.

_‘No. I’m not fucking jealous of a theoretical kitten!’_ Tony looks up at Loki, determined to get his own life on track, but not ever forgetting what has been done for him. He’s just memorising the angles of Loki’s face, when a familiar sound echoes in his inner ear.

An engine. It’s too far away to see yet, peering out from under the table, but it’s getting closer. He waits, watching out the picture window of the diner. It’s a sound – among many – that he would recognise anywhere. This was his chance. Arguably not the best time, but his best chance. If he can lose Loki, then they both might get away from this with their dignities intact. Tony might just be able to protect him. The sound is a Harley 1688cc V-twin custom. His custom. Tony knew his work when he heard it, and this was the engine he had customised for none other than…

Tony leaps from the satchel and across the diner. The cat was out of the bag, and people shrieked at the sudden bullet of fur that darted toward the entrance.

“Wait!” Tony hears Loki cry distantly, and it’s painful, but he is already weaving his way around a new patron’s feet as they open the door of the diner. He sprints up the pavement looking for the bike. When he sees Steve parking it across the road. He doesn’t hesitate to thank his luck and leap toward the off-duty hero.

_“Cap!”_ Tony yowls, and Steve turns toward him. His eyes widening in confused recognition and shock. Did he recognise him?

“Stop!” Steve shouts and he looks as if he’s about to run toward him. Tony doesn’t falter until he hears the blare of a car horn – it’s too close. Tony doesn’t even have to turn to know that Steve won’t make it in time. Doesn’t Fate just love her cruel coincidence? She missed him with the bicycle, so she’s decided to up her game.

“No!” A shout. There’s a lurch in his chest, a burning swell, like he’s never felt. Bright gold; then it’s dark. He’s being crushed and dragged. Pulled under the unforgiving tires of the oncoming car. He can hear the low gravelly sound of flesh against road surface. The screech of tires and the creak of a handbrake being hastily pulled on. Then the tumbling movement stops. Everything is still so noisy. There’s the honking of interrupted and impatient traffic. There’s a dog barking at the chaos, and a woman is shouting, panic and horror bubbling from her throat with the words…

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Over and over.

“Ma’am please calm down. I need you to call an ambulance.” Trust Steve to be so collected, well he’d probably seen Tony worse off, especially considering he is still conscious. _‘Wait.’_ That’s when Tony feels it. It feels like he’s back in the suit, the feeling of encompassing safety and warmth. The warmth is draining away however, and the cold of being exposed to the air hits him, almost as suddenly as the sight of Loki lying beneath him.

Loki isn’t moving, arms once wrapped around Tony protectively, now limp. His eyes are closed and there’s red seeping in rivers across the asphalt. Tony’s fur is sticky and covered in blood. Loki’s blood. He backs up quickly. Front haunches lowered, ears flattening against the back of his head, cowering under the grill of the car. He can’t look away from the sight in front of him.

_“Steve? Oh god, Steve tell me he’s ok.”_ Tony whimpers as Steve kneels next to Loki’s body checking vitals.

“He’s breathing.” Steve announces and he proceeds to give orders to the horrified onlookers. A lady hands him her cardigan to help stop the bleeding. Tony walks around to Loki’s face and nuzzles at his cheek insistently. Pacing back and forward, trying to rouse and relieve the pain.

_“It’s ok, you’re ok.”_ Tony reassures in soft little mewls. He locks eyes with Steve, pleading, and sees him come to a decision by the set of his jaw. He’s sure it’s why the solider argues so vehemently with the EMT’s to let a cat ride in the ambulance with Loki.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to a 1k chapter, for now. Tried (and kind of failed) to make this one lighter. Sorry about the angst in the last one, hope you enjoy.

They’re standing in a small, dim room. He’s being held by arms too strong, and too careful. Steve hasn’t put him down since they left the ambulance. Fury is stood resolutely to their left, hands clasped behind his back, and eye unblinking. Barton is to their right, arms crossed, and leaning a shoulder against the window. His back is tense, and curled forward like that of his bow, so that his face is just inches from the glass. An obnoxious light box is set on the far-left wall, casting their expressions in haunted blue-white light. It shines out from behind x-rays, pinned with magnets to its surface. Tony can see where the dark is leaking out from between the fractures in Loki’s bones. He looks away, only for his eyes to fall on the small flat-screen, pinned up in the corner of the room. The sound is muted, though there are subtitles, and Tony watches for the hundredth time. Doesn’t look away because somehow, from behind the screen, the past is still so much more urgent.

The reporters found their news-worthy story after all. Of course, by the time it was played across channels as the evening’s lead-story it was hours after the fact. It had already been viewed over 80-thousand times on YouTube alone. A shaky, out of focus video, of just 56seconds. It begins with Captain America getting off his bike, obviously having been the original subject of the video. The footage had captured three heart-stopping events. The first, the moment a stray cat runs into the path of traffic. The second, the moment an almost forgotten super-villain comes running into frame. The third, sparks of gold and a blur of green, the most magnificent manipulation of magic ever caught on a civilian camera – before the news channel cuts the feed.

_‘I’ve totally fucked up his life.’_ Tony thinks, then cringes at the potential literalness in such a statement. Before them is a silent, dim scene. Watching out from behind a two-way mirror, feels nothing like watching the television screen. Everything shown of the incident is so sudden. Breaking news, the serious faces of the presenters as they jump between facts; like synapses, jolting electricity, and data through milliseconds. From behind the mirror, in the present, everyone’s movements are slow, and precise – practiced. It all seems much too calm.

“We can’t let him die.” Clint says without addressing anyone in particular. He doesn’t even move, gaze intent on the surgeon, as if it’s her he is speaking to.

“I don’t think it’s our intention to let anyone die.” Steve murmurs, though he does spare a glance at the man to his left.

“Not when he’s going to die a hero.” Clint agrees, before finally turning away from the glass. He looks Tony straight in the eye, and points threateningly. “This is your fault.” Tony feels a surge of guilt and pain, and he’s thankful that – being incapable of tears – there will be nothing to blur his vigilance over Loki.

“It certainly has made things difficult.” Fury hums. “With all of New-York wanting to know if he’s alive or not, we don’t have a chance in hell of keeping things quiet.”

“The ‘Cap and Cat’ selfies certainly didn’t help.” Clint spares a glare for Steve, who blushes slightly. He pulls Tony closer, more like a shield, then to protect the feline. To his credit, Clint does seem to soften some.

Tony had sat fidgety but patient while Loki was getting all sorts of scans; Steve was somewhat more easily distracted. After just 20minutes Steve had pulled out his phone, and started thumbing away at it; his other hand still curled around Tony. Tony had tried to communicate in the brief time spent waiting on the soldier’s lap:

_Dash Stop. T._

_Dash Dash Dash Stop. O._

_Dash Dot Stop. N._

_Dash Dot Dash –_

“Quit that.” Steve had brushed aside the paw batting at his thigh, laughing.

_“Useleeess.”_ Tony had whined, as the solider had snapped a picture.

 

The surgeon takes a step back from the table, and places something on the instrument tray. Then, taking off her gloves as she goes, walks over to the sink to wash her hands. The rest of her team begin moving about, cleaning up, and Tony feels a longing, just seeing Loki left alone in amongst it. They watch as the surgeon walks up to the mirror, and opens a door on the other side of Clint. She unties her mask, as she steps into the room. Tony's breath stutters into a clipped gasp, in anticipation.

“He’ll still need intensive, but he’s stable for now.” Tony keens, the relief he feels surmounting to happiness; the sound draws her stern expression. “I don’t condone having animals so close to the operating theatre.” She says looking at Fury, who simply nods before leaving, assumedly to go and update the security that’s been following their morbid procession. She still reaches out to scratch behind Tony’s ear.

“Sorry, he puts up a fuss whenever we try to take him too far from Loki.” Steve explains, and Clint scoffs.

“Puts up a fuss?” He says, lifting his forearm to show the evidence of last time they had tried. Angry, deep claw marks cut down the back of his arm. Tony snickers quietly. It looks a lot worse than it is; a heavy-pawed warning at most. Tony had been furious, and desperate as Clint reached for him under Fury’s orders, but he wouldn’t seriously injure his friend. The surgeon gives a barely considering glace toward Tony, before grabbing Clint’s wrist.

“That needs to be taken care of.” She proceeds to drag the archer toward the exit, despite his protests. “Stray cats carry a number of diseases, rabies for one. Obviously Captain Rodgers will be fine…” Tony laughs a little louder, in little huffs, alongside Steve.

“I can hear you laughing Steve, this isn’t funny.” Clint calls from somewhere in the hallway.

“We think it’s pretty hilarious don’t we.” Steve says to Tony, his chuckles dying a little. His eyes closing briefly. “Tony would too.” He whispers, but Tony’s attention is back to the two-way mirror. They’re moving Loki, wheeling him away, and Tony needs to be there beside him.

Shield medical sits at least a sub-basement level below ground, and so neither of them hears when the first clap of thunder ricochets out through the city; echoing off the buildings, announcing its proximity. Storm clouds gathering from a seemingly cloudless night, darkening the few stars that dared to grace the sky.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who left comments, it is so encouraging. I'll try and reply to everyone, but it may take a while. Saying this, there may be a bit of a longer wait for the next chapter, I'm quite busy this coming week, sorry. I tried to leave it in a good place for you, hope you enjoy.

Tony is curled tightly into the space between Loki’s shoulder and his cheek, when the thunderer arrives. Steve having deposited him to the only place he was sure not to stray, and where Tony could feel the faint pulse, and lukewarmth from Loki’s skin. A trail of agents, and nurses in pursuit of the thunder god, pool at the door. Thor having strode through them with a tenacity unmatched, and those lacking his dire resolve were left to question their presence in his wake. Startled, Tony raises his head, but refuses to move at Thor’s entrance. Some of the heat from his own too warm body was finally soaking into Loki’s, and some small conjured instinct, forced him to cover the sleeping god’s throat. A quiet, but insistent alarm is blaring where Thor has failed to announce his authorisation to the security system. Tony watches carefully as Fury trails in behind the thunderer, swiping his card over the touch lock by the door to silence the alarm. When Thor’s gaze falls upon his mortal brother it is warm, fond, and lacks its usual guilt.

“I thought I had come too late, but I see my brother fares well.” A puzzled expression crosses the god’s face, no doubt realising the premature joviality of his words. Loki was far from well. Thor takes a moment to sigh, before the small smile returns, a calm hope not often seen on his face.

_“You should just get over here.”_ Tony meows impatiently. Thor’s eyes widen, only having just noticed him, and an exuberant happiness replaces the gentle expression, as he makes his way around to Loki’s side.

“You must be my brother’s saviour.” Thor exclaims, and Tony’s ear twitches in irritation.

_“I’m pretty sure you’ve got that the wrong way around.”_ Tony murmurs. Just as Fury clears his throat.

“Which means what exactly?” The man asks, stepping up to the foot of the bed. Tony presses himself closer to Loki. Thor doesn’t turn to look at the director when he speaks. It’s rare that the warrior ever chooses not to look someone in the eye when addressing them. Even rarer is the grim, swiftly concealed annoyance that passes over his visage. His next words are as much for Loki, as they are an explanation. The god reaches forward to brush the hair away from Loki’s face.

“My brother has been absolved.” Thor says into the waiting silence. A confidence, and pride in his words, that could carry no other meaning.

_“What?”_ Tony’s mew is so quiet, the weight of his disbelief smothering it as it escapes him. Thor continues.

“For his sacrifice, Loki will regain his divinity. He only has to swear to serve both our realms.” Finally turning toward Fury, Thor produces something seemingly from within the folds of his cape; though it is not quite as seamless as Loki’s magic. It’s gold. A glistening, flawless fruit, and Tony thinks back, amongst his general shock, to the shimmering flowers from the other morning. “The apple is both immortality, and the oath. Should Loki choose not to eat it, he will remain mortal.” Thor explains.

The realisation that this had been Loki’s punishment leaves Tony breathless with anger. The mortality he can forgive, it was almost poetic, cursing Loki with a life like those he had threatened. However, stripping Loki of his magic like they did, was something Tony could never excuse. It wasn’t bound, it was severed – and the shifting cold that now filters through his chest on each of Loki’s shallow breaths, twists at the thought.

“May I?” Fury holds out a hand expectantly, and Thor relinquishes the golden apple. The director looks frustrated at the fruit in his palm. “He saved a cat.” He deadpans, a cautious irritation betrayed by his focused stare.

“He saved a life.” Thor argues. “One much treasured by this realm that my brother once sought to destroy. Few would give their life for such an insignificant creature…”

_“Hey!”_ Tony hisses, attention torn away from the apple in Fury’s hand.

“…and fewer would die for their enemy. Loki’s actions have restored the Allfather’s faith in his redemption.” Thor finishes. A challenge in his words, and more so in his unblinking stare. Fury glares. Tony shudders with the full force of the anticipation, waiting for the catch; the punchline; the devastating counter balance of the planet, tipping to right itself, and leave him and his mortal god undone.

“The fact remains that Loki is unconscious…” Fury turns the apple over in his palm. “…and unable to swear to the oath.” Tony snarls, a high-pitched sound that threatens a desperate, and shameless intent to harm. Thor rests a heavy hand between his shoulder blades, in an attempt to placate the animal. “We cannot afford to return Loki’s advantage. We’ll discuss this with the team, and then, with the proper precautions in place, we can requite Loki.” Thor sighs in acquiescence, as the director hands him back the apple.

“That is acceptable. My brother has taught me a great many things, but one is that you shouldn’t simply trust in another’s word alone.” Fury nods in agreement. “Please allow me a moment with my brother.” Fury turns away, stalking out of the room, but waits for Thor to follow. Thor turns back to his brother, and leans close, speaking low.

“Of course, we know that an oath is binding, enchantingly so, there is nothing to distrust.” Thor is addressing Loki, but something in his tone makes Tony drop the guise of respect he was lending them. He lifts his head, ears twitching, and watching Thor. The thunderer side-glances him in turn, before returning his attention to Loki. “Speaking of such, to take a familiar a sorcerer must extend a great deal of trust. It in itself is both enchanted, and – binding. My brother will not survive these injuries without it.” Thor’s face is grave before he smiles a soft, and playful grin. “If Loki trusts you that much, then as do I.”

He straightens, nodding to Tony, and goes to leave. Tony catches sight of something glinting out from under Loki’s pillow – golden. He looks up to where Thor’s retreating back is disappearing behind the closing door. The door clicks quietly shut on its soft close hinge, before there’s a loud pop. Tony springs to his paws. There are several moments where all that’s heard is the fizzling zaps of electricity crackling, free from its circuitry confines. The lights drop out, before the dim security lights kick in, and the lock pad by the door emanates a violent blue glow as it short-circuits; intermittently spitting aggressive sparks. The door goes into lock-down, and triggers a wailing siren.

_“What on Earth?”_ Tony inhales. He looks at Loki, before his gaze slides to the golden apple. Tony is pretty sure there’s an impressive Mjölnir shaped crater in the other side of that door. So obviously, there was something Thor wanted him to do here. Or wanted Loki’s familiar to do, and Fury wasn’t going to like it. _‘Enchantedly binding.’_ Tony thinks, in amongst the chaotic swirl of escape plans. He was _‘bound’_ to Loki’s magic he supposes. He can hear agents pounding on the other side of the door now, working to get it open. ‘Loki trusts me. The oath is magic, the apple is the oath, and if apple-magic works anything like Loki’s magic…’ Tony jumps around Loki’s shoulders. Bats the apple out from under the pillow. _“Please let this work.”_ He begs before opening his small maw as wide as it will allow, and sinks his teeth into the fruit.

The apple is firm, crisp, and it hurts biting down as hard as he does. As soon as he punctured the skin the cold had surged up from his chest, as if to meet the sweet juice that he swallows down. He let’s go, not being able to truly take a bite, the apple remains almost unblemished, but if he has to eat the whole thing, he will. As he bites down for a second time, two things happen: the door to the room is all but blown off its hinges, and an arm wraps hastily around his waist.

“Drop that apple, and I drop you.” Loki grits out, and Tony locks his jaw on the fruit. There’s a pull inside him that he’s felt before, and Tony wishes so vehemently that he could laugh. Then it’s all gold.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments, they were all so heartening to read. I'm sorry I was late returning them, I've had to write so many essays. I know, plural, ew - and usually I love essays. Well without further ado, enjoy.

They fall hard. Out of limbo, into the thick weave, and twining patterns of a familiar fig leaf rug. His small body rolling to a stop at its frayed edge.

 _‘Back to square one.’_  Tony thinks as he looks up into the dark screen of Loki’s antique TV, and his feline reflection blinks back at him, the golden apple stuffed in his mouth. A drawn groan comes from behind him. He swiftly flips, wriggling to lie on his other side, the residual cold still aching in his bones, lingering longer than usual.

Loki doesn’t seem any better off. The god is lying on his back, limbs strewn, and breathing harsh. His head lolls to the side to look at Tony, a mimic of the cat’s full-body flop, dark hair falling into his eyes. Tony jumps up, his legs a little unsteady, and gambols over to the closest of Loki’s outstretched arms. He almost tips over himself, leaning forward to nudge the god’s curled fingers, and drops the apple into his open palm. When Loki doesn’t make any move to lift the arm, he tilts precariously forward once again to nuzzle the soft skin of Loki’s wrist.

 _“You’re ok.”_ Tony’s relief overshadows any of his frustrations about still having a tail. _“You’re safe.”_ He can’t help the reassurances that keep absconding amongst his equally involuntary purring. Loki’s breathing begins to settle, and when Tony looks up, he is smiling at him gently. Lifting the arm, Loki transfers the apple to his other hand, and takes a large bite of the fruit. It’s quickly followed by two more, and when he finally swallows his mouthful, he lets loose a long sigh. As the air rushes out of Loki’s lungs, Tony feels the new magic pulled into his own. This magic is different to Loki’s. It’s tepid, seeping. Instead of rushing through the natural pathways of his nerves and veins, it soaks into his every cell from the centre out. Still chewing, the god looks back, and uses his free hand to pet Tony behind the ears. He stumbles forward into the touch, causing Loki’s hand to run down his spine.

“I suppose this is adequate compensation, for saving your precious life.” Loki says once he’s swallowed another mouthful. It’s meant to sound sarcastic, but too much truth peeks through the tiredness in his voice. Tony steps closer, to inspect the rapidly fading bruises from under the collar of Loki’s hospital gown. He looks back up at the god, who is watching him closely.

 _“I’m still not so convinced it was worth it.”_ He mews quietly, in some kind of delayed disbelief. _“I almost lost you.”_ The hand in his fur stills. Almost silence hangs between them, as Tony hangs his head. Loki takes the opportunity to run his fingers through the fur at his shoulders. He continues to munch on the apple, and Tony is still purring, trying to muster some comfort.

“It’s ok familiar mine, you did well.” Loki reassures, he continues trying to tangle his fingers through the short fur. “I did what I did, because I couldn’t lose _you_.”

 _“Don’t say that.”_ Tony sighs. He thinks of the conflict that will ensue if he were to try and approach Shield, or his friends now. Either Thor has offered some explanations, and they think he’s compromised, or he hasn’t, and all Tony is to them is Loki’s magic cat. How the other god knew him he’s not sure, but clearly Loki is still unaware of his identity. He thinks of how the accident was his fault, was because he had tried to run away; he thinks of how much harder it’s going to be to leave now.

“Then what should I say?” Loki asks, he doesn’t seem offended, just curious. Tony startles, displacing Loki’s hand, and starts to back away. Loki watches him, taking a last bite to finish off the apple, and raises an eyebrow.

 _"You can understand me?!"_ Tony squeaks, eyes wide, and fur standing on end. His tail is at least twice its usual size. Loki smiles brightly.

“Yes, my Allspeak was returned to me.” Loki rolls over onto his side to face Tony, propping his head up on his free hand, and gives Tony a considering look. “You are quite expressive in your language. Others of your kind are not so intelligent.”

 _“Uh…”_ Tony gives as an aborted meow when he has to swallow dryly. Loki laughs.

“Perhaps I was mistaken.” Loki leans forward to ruffle Tony’s fur, and frowns with concern when Tony backs further out of his reach. “What is wrong?”

 _“Well, now that you can understand what I say…”_ Tony swallows again, and Loki nods in either encouragement, or confirmation. _“…I don’t know if you’ll particularly like what I have to say.”_ Loki narrows his eyes, but it doesn’t seem to be in suspicion.

“You’ll have to say it, for us to be certain.” Loki stretches not concerned in the slightest by Tony’s cryptic warning. A shimmer runs over him, and he’s suddenly wearing jeans, and a loose T-shirt. Already his colour looks better, his eyes brighter, and Tony knows that Loki doesn’t need an illusion to appear so healthy. The new vitality is genuine, and it’s not so much his reclaimed divinity. The almost imperceptible dullness that had shadowed Loki, during the time that Tony had spent with him, was gone. The fears of being pursued, captured, and imprisoned that had plagued the vulnerable god are gone. The moments when Loki would brighten and laugh at Tony, those fears briefly forgotten, would soon be gone too.

 _“You trust me.”_ Tony says. It’s as much of a question, as whether or not Tony longs to keep those moments. _“In a minute you won’t want to, but you have to try.”_ Loki looks appropriately dubious. Except, it’s the look of someone who trusts absolutely, and is unconvinced that they could ever be persuaded not to. Tony has never had someone look at him like that before.

“I will.” Loki promises, and he beckons Tony closer with open palms. Tony abides, and steps into his hands.

 _“I’m cursed...”_ Tony admits as Loki’s hands settle in the fur at his shoulders. Loki frowns before closing his eyes, and Tony feels the rivers of cool magic pulling through him. They twist, seeking out the spell that’s written into his very form.

“So, you are.” Loki agrees, opening his eyes, concern sitting as a crease on his brow.

 _“…I’m supposed to be human.”_ Tony explains, and Loki tenses minutely, stilling, before looking away. It’s a poor attempt to hide the panic in his expression.

“I can’t keep a human…” He whispers, and Tony’s heart sinks a little. He supposes that it would be difficult. “Why did you agree to be my familiar?” Loki’s distress is apparent despite his attempts to conceal it. Tony studies Loki’s features as he’s still turned away. His hair loose, and soft looking, to his dark eyelashes. He lets the silence of the unanswered question force Loki to look at him. Then he answers.

 _“Our chance at something better; that’s what you said. I wanted… I wanted you to have something better.”_ They don’t break their gaze, and there’s a liquid lustre to the god’s, but it’s accompanied by a smile.

“In any case, I suppose I should restore you to your true form.” Loki laughs at his own sentimentality. Tony matches his attempt to lighten their despondent mood.

 _“Only if you remember to trust me. If not, I’d rather you just kick me out like this.”_ The words come out as a jovial grumble.

“So that you can attempt to be driven over for a third time? Though, I suppose that might be less painful.” Tony huffs, as Loki’s fingers press deeper into his muscles.

_“Third time’s the charm, but I have nine lives.”_

“I do trust you.” Loki says softly, assuredly. They might not need anything as arbitrary as names, but Tony wants one last thing. He could have at least that much, to go with the memories of their time together, if Loki should decide their friendship lost. Tony waits until Loki starts un-weaving the curse, so that there isn’t enough time for the god to ask for his in return.

 _“I trust you – Loki.”_ For a brief moment, Loki’s expression is filled with a wondrous awe, before giving Tony a smile. There’s still a weary defeat under its surface, but it’s the most stunning yet.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fwhaaaa? Two chapters in one day? Blankets are you feeling alright? Honestly, you guys deserve this for being so patient. So, late night rules apply here folks; apologies for any mistakes, I'll do a final edit soon. As for now, hope you enjoy.

It’s painful. It’s so painful that he thinks the pain alone will make him pass out. He’s glad he lost consciousness the first time around. His body feels lax where his tendons should be stretched taut. The basic muscle groups used to simply withstand gravity, eternally pulling down, were ascending, floating. Each nerve brushing against one another, a slight glide, like a ribbon dance. They barely touch, but are so sensitive that they sting and prick. Pins and needles all through his body. The only thing grounding him is Loki’s hands – in his fur – guiding his form – on his shoulders.

“There you are.” Loki coos reassuringly, pleased with his work. The first two things Tony registers are undeniable proof that he’s finally himself again. The first is that he’s kneeling, head hanging, and back bowed forward; his very human hands gripping his very naked, human thighs. The second is that he’s naked, a fact that everyone must be used to by now. Except that this special, not-first time isn’t because of a girl. Tony’s breathing begins to slow, but remains ragged and deep. He looks up. Loki is smiling gently, thumbs rubbing steadying circles into his shoulders, until their eyes meet.

“Oh.” Loki tenses, shoulders coming up, as if expecting a blow to follow, but he doesn’t move.

“Yeah.” Tony heaves. “As if things weren’t already complicated enough.” His voice is raspy, and he hopes the higher feline registers haven’t left any permeant damage on his vocal cords.

“Indeed.” Loki agrees, drawing back from Tony as he stands. Tony makes to follow, but his legs aren’t quite ready.

“Loki…” He pleads croakily, but the god leaves the room stepping into the kitchen without a word. Tony has barely managed to haul himself up onto the sofa when Loki returns. He goes to speak, but Loki hands him a glass of water, face unreadable, and drags the monster bear fur across Tony’s bare lap. “Thanks.” Tony drinks, and Loki sits down beside him.

“I should have known.” Loki sighs, pressing his knuckles into his brow, as he covers his face.

“How were you supposed to?” Tony matches Loki’s defeated tone, leaning away to place the empty glass on a side table. “I would have tried to tell you, except…”

“I was your enemy.” Loki concludes.

“Until you weren’t.” Their eyes meet briefly, Loki is the first to look away.

“Your eyes kept their colour. I should have noticed before.” Loki leans back so that his head hangs over the back of the sofa, his hands in his hair. “It’s obvious now.”

“Well I’m flattered.” Tony chuckles, the smirk coming through on his laugh. Loki looks up, craning his neck to the side, so that he doesn’t have to sit up properly.

“What?”

“I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen me out of the suit…” Tony grins. “…and you’ve memorised the colour of my eyes.” Loki takes the definition of ‘throw cushion’ quite literally, and hits Tony square in the face with one. Tony laughs. He laughs aloud, openly, and it feels fantastic. When he looks back, Loki is looking away into the empty screen of the TV as if there’s something on, but Tony can see the corner of his mouth curl, and a faint blush high on his cheekbones. Tony looks down at his toes, wriggling them, trying to draw feeling back into them.

“I do trust you.” Tony looks up, but Loki still isn’t looking at him. His eyes fallen to where his fingers intertwine in his lap. “When I made you my familiar, I swore to trust you with my life.”

“Sorry.” Loki simply shakes his head.

“Your actions, regardless of how foolish, make sense now. You were trying to get home.” Tony’s mind flickers back to right before the accident. “It also explains why the Allfather absolved me, given who I saved. So, everything turned out for the best I suppose.”

“You don’t have to leave.” Tony says softly, remembering Loki’s promises to take them both far from this realm. “Well, of course not now that you are a god again. By all means stay and terrorize the city...” Tony cuts of his tangent with a sharp inhale, and when he looks up, Loki is smiling, a questioning eyebrow raised. “You’ll be fine without me, maybe even better off.” Tony breathes out, and the smile disappears.

“I can hardly stay. With you as my familiar, I won’t be able to get away with an ounce of my usual tricks.”

“So, the familiar thing, it’s permanent.” Loki nods.

“A sorcerer only gets to choose a familiar once a lifetime.” Tony isn’t going to delve into the unspoken loopholes of that statement. What he does trip, and plummet head-first into, is the gravity of its implications. Loki chose a cat as his familiar. An animal that would barely live half a decade, let alone Loki’s mortal life-span at the time. It was nothing. Much like Tony’s life must seem to the god’s millennia that now stretched before him. The thought is bleak, but not likely to deter him. If anything, it makes this moment seem all the more valuable. 

“Loki, you’d be so much better off without me…”

“Don’t say that.” Loki grits out. A skewed echo of their earlier state.

“…but personally…” Tony falters. Not because his resolve is anything less than steadfast, but to commit to memory the sight of hope. Hope, in the way that Loki waits for his next words; breath held, eyes a little larger. Tony only hopes that what he says next, is what Loki wants to hear. “…I’d rather you be slightly less than better – with me.” Tony feels something zing through him, that doesn’t give him enough time to panic. Cold, and vital. Loki’s magic vibrating under his skin, rapid-fire along his veins. “Whoa. So, that’s definitely still there.”

“Of course, you are still my familiar.” Loki hums, and he’s grinning. “I won’t even be able to cast an illusion, without you knowing.”

“Oh. That’s a ‘you owe me something’ grin.” Tony thinks aloud, and Loki chuckles.

“How can I possibly create mischief like this?” Loki sighs, in mock sorrow.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way…”

“New York’s finest Avenger guarding my every move.” Loki continues, his crudely fabricated innocence threatens to give way to a dark smirk.

“Yeah, Shield is going to have no trouble believing that one.” Tony groans sarcastically. He can see this turning into a PR nightmare, which will no doubt divulge into a Pepper, paperwork nightmare. “As far as they’re concerned, I’m still your pet.” That or MIA, Tony’s not sure which is better. Loki has pulled his legs up underneath him at this point, and is leaning in close.

“Oh, but aren’t you?” Loki raises a hand, to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, focusing right by his temple. Tony’s ridiculously glad he can no longer purr, but it’s a seriously close thing.

“I’m going to take it that this means you’re staying.” Tony says, trying, and failing to not be as affected as he is, by Loki’s petting. He closes his eyes, as the cause is surely lost, and tilts his head into Loki’s palm.

“If you are sure that is what you want.” Loki rumbles next to his ear. “I suppose I could always just take you with me to other realms.” Tony sighs happily.

“Whatever, wherever, just don’t stop.” Loki laughs.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I never imagined this work getting more than 50, let alone 500. I feel the love. I'm sorry I can't reply to them all, and when I do that it's super late. ^.^' Honestly though, they are very appreciated. I hope you enjoy.

To Tony’s dismay and reluctant acceptance, they do have to stop. They’d been talking not an hour, when something rams heavy and determined into the door of Loki’s apartment. Surprisingly, it holds fast.

“What...?” Tony shakes tension into his relaxed limbs.

“Your Captain…” Loki supplies. “…and the others.” Tony groans, and notes that this is the second time today he’s been on the other side of a barricaded door. He thinks that says more of the last week’s developments in his life, than the whole cursed debacle.

“Their response time needs some work.” He’d thought Shield would be crawling all over the place after the accident. The again, he’d thought his friends would have found him long before now. “Some major work.” Tony amends.

“Shall I take us somewhere else?” Loki asks finally straightening up from where he’d been lounging against Tony’s side. There’s another muted, low toned slam against the door.

“Nah, time to face the music. How long will that door hold?” Tony says stretching rather leisurely, considering the situation.

“Forever, if we wish it.” Loki’s smirking, eyeing Tony’s still bare – everything.

“Don’t have forever, sunshine.” Loki frowns. “Okay, there’s no way I can convince them that I’m not compromised, but there’s a slim chance we can convince them that you are.”

“How do you propose we explain our earlier non-compliance?”

“Easy. You needed the apple to heal, and I needed you to heal so that I could be human again. Have you got a towel or something?” Loki stalks over to Tony, and a shiver runs over Tony’s skin, he thinks it’s only partially due to the magic. Loki pulls him up by the tie he’s suddenly wearing. The last shimmers of gold, giving way to the cloth. Tony looks down. “This is my favourite suit.” Tony smiles, a little amazed.

“It’s my favourite too.” Loki grins mischievously back, fingers straightening out his jacket. His voice a little low. “I’ll admit, Tony Stark, you’ve drawn my eye for quite some time now.”

“I’ve had my eye on you too.” Tony smirks, waggling his eyebrows. “I'm a hero, and you're on a watch-list. I made it my mission.” Loki laughs. It's not like Tony was ever subtle about his mid-battle flirting.

“You should answer the door.”

“I probably should.” Tony says, but neither sounds like they agree with the statement. Tony inhales, grabs Loki’s hand, and tugs him closer as they walk to the door. “I’m not going to let them take you.” He says, looking back over his shoulder. Loki smiles.

“Oh, familiar mine. I won’t even give them the chance.” Loki hums, using his free hand to run his fingers through Tony’s hair in an attempt to fix it. There’s not much he can do. Tony smiles back.

“Ready?” He asks, Loki gives a small nod. The god's grip on his hand tightens a little. Tony turns back to the door. “Stand back, we’re opening the door!” He announces loud enough to be heard through the wood.

“Tony?!” Cap’s voice is urgent, but seems relieved. There’s a few seconds of silence, Steve must be instructing everyone to hold their fire. “Ok Tony, go ahead.” A shimmer runs over the door, as Loki let’s his magic fall away. Tony grips the handle, and opens the door calmly. What awaits them on the other side would be terrifying, if the veritable arsenal weren’t being wielded by his closest friends.

“Fuck, took you guys long enough.” Tony huffs, grinning. He’s rewarded with a small smile from Steve, and a mechanical chuckle from War Machine.

“Good to see you too, Tony.” Rhodey snarks, but no one lowers their weapons. Widow, and Hawkeye look especially tense.

“Loki, come out with your mouth shut, and your hands raised.” Barton commands, and just as Tony goes to interject, the god’s chest is pressed to his back, and two arms are winding around his waist.

“Am I a human shield?” Tony gasps in false indignation.

“They’re _your_ friends.” Loki chuckles, face pressed to his shoulder, so that he can peer past Tony.

“Ok…” Tony begins, throwing his hands up placatingly. “Firstly, I am not a hostage. That is not what’s happening here. Secondly, I assume Thor is being held at Shield, but has managed to fill you in on some of the details.”

“We were stuck in a waiting room together for four hours Tony!” Steve accuses but he sounds mostly confused. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Tony levels him an unimpressed look.

“And interrupt your catstagramming? I couldn’t possibly. Lastly, I would also like to remind everyone that it was a different god entirely that got me into this.” Tony feels the arms around him tighten slightly.

“Yes, where is this Bastet? I would like a word.” Loki growls…

“As you can see I am human now, thanks to Loki...” Tony hurries to cover up the threatening reminder of Loki’s vindictive nature. Though he does feel the magic tugging at him, pulling him in close, and can’t help but feel pleased by Loki’s protectiveness. “…Also, I’m his familiar now. I’m basically a Geiger counter, but for magic. That’s got to be useful, right? So, Loki stays with me.”

"Or what? You'll _'put up a fuss'_ again?" Clint says, unimpressed. Tony can see where his arm is bandaged from the last time he'd tried to take him from Loki.

"You rubbed me the wrong way, literally. It was awful." 

"We can’t be sure that you’re not compromised Tony.” Steve interrupts, shaking his head. Tony doesn’t think he has a problem believing him, but is just taking precautions.

“I’d only be compromised if Loki was your enemy.” Tony reasons. Admitting enough of the truth that they at least know he’s serious. There’s silence as they all consider that statement. Rhodey lowers his hands, the whirring of repulsors quietens as they disengage.

“Granted, I could very easily become your enemy…” Loki hums, Tony cringes, while everyone else goes tense. “…but only if you should try to hurt my familiar. We have no quarrel, if you let me stay with Tony.”

“I’ve heard something like that before…” Clint sounds unimpressed. "Which are we this time, the ant or the boot?" Loki unwinds his arms from Tony, and comes to stand beside him, as if to face his mistakes. Tony turns away from the reactions of his friends. Watches as Loki addresses them formally. 

“The malice of my past actions was never intended for your realm. It wasn’t until the damage was done that I saw how misdirected my anger truly was.” Loki turns to look at Tony. Apology sincere in his expression. Tony takes his hand.

“Loki has already been punished for his crimes.” Tony says, decisively, and turning back to face the others. He can see Loki watching him from the corner of his eye. Clint scoffs. “Don’t try to tell me being human isn’t a punishment. For a god, it is. I’ve been a cat for the past week, and I thought _that_ was hell. You can consider this Loki’s parole. Everyone’s safe, we’re all on the same side, so let’s put the armoury away.”

“You’re both compromised.” Widow declares, but she drops her stance to something more relaxed. Tony grins.

“So compromised.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all so much for reading, and being patient. With this chapter, 'To Make a Cat Laugh' is officially finished, but I could see myself maybe doing some one-shots in the future. Thank you again, you've been pawesome. Sorry, I know, I'll play myself out. (^ . ^=)S

“How dare you!” The sorceress hisses. “The form I gave you was sacred, and you squandered it.” Bastet swings her crook, narrowly missing Tony. The pulse of miasma that hits the building behind him, reduces a block of concrete to nothing but smouldering crumbs. Apparently, she’s serious. 

“No offense, but fur isn’t really my style.” Tony deadpans, and Bastet shrieks. Loki simply hums thoughtfully.

“We’ll have to talk about this later, familiar mine.” This only serves to make Bastet more riled. 

“I made you worthy of _my_ benefaction, of _my_ divinity.”

“You made him worthy of nothing!” Loki spits back, teleporting to her side. Suspended mid-air above the city. Tony flinches toward them, ready to swoop to catch the god should he fall. “That is what you are. A false god. You are nothing!” Loki swings out with a long dagger, and golden sparks splash out as their weapons clash. A repulsor blast hits her from behind, and she turns deftly, a pulse sending both Tony and Loki tumbling back. Tony stabilizes, but Loki hits the gravel of a nearby rooftop. He quickly rolls back to his feet. Lighting crackles as Thor swings out with his hammer in his brother’s defence. The god is laughing louder than usual. Clearly, he’d missed being out in the field after being benched for a few weeks. Shield had taken his transgression to heart, and given the thunder god a severe time-out.

“Indeed brother, remind her of who she claims godhood before. There are three of us more divine!”

“You call me false, trickster!” Bastet laughs cruelly. “It is you that hides behind mirages.” Loki hisses, his eyes narrowing on the sorceress, damnation in his gaze. Thor and Tony take that moment to pin her in a combined attack, both silent in their act of vindication through violence.

“Hey, mind games!” Loki spins, managing to catch the staff pinwheeling toward him. It’s rather generic, carbon fibre equipment. Strong, light, obviously Shield’s. Still he can extend his magic through it, strengthening it. He nods his thanks to the archer already drawing back an arrow aimed at Bastet. Barton saves a moment to look back and wink, before letting his arrow fly.

“Barriers are almost in place Loki…” The Captain calls through the coms as an indication to get back, lest he be caught in the magic containment field they’ll create.

“Best to make it sooner rather than later.” Bruce supplies. Obviously, he aims to get the remote activation online before his other self might be needed. “Tony and I didn’t pull any punches with these.”

“Aw Cap give us one more minute.” Tony sounds nothing but petulant. Loki can’t hear a single ounce of strain from having fended off the sorceress. Shield wanted Bastet taken back in alive, otherwise they could have finished this hours ago. Still it gave Loki and Tony a very rewarding chance to simply toy with her. Much like a cat would a mouse.

“We gave you one more minute back in interrogation Tony, look where that got us.” Clint complains, obviously chagrined by the wave after wave of magic that knocks aside his arrows like so many flies.

“I hate to admit it, but Barton is right.” Loki agrees, and Tony gasps, taking a moment to hold a hand against his chest as if wounded. “I’ll fall back shortly, as soon as I know Tony is safe.” Loki continues, spinning his staff, and deflecting an attack aimed at the archer.

“Barriers are set.”

“You heard Nat.” Steve commands. “Loki clear the area.”

“I can hold her Lokes, feel like I could do this all day, you get out.” Tony reassures, and aims to prove the truth of his statement by landing three clear hits.

“Don’t get complacent.” Loki relents, throwing out one last assault of daggers to distract the sorceress. She cries out as one beds itself in her shoulder, and Loki moves through the haze of magic, both his own and not, to beyond the perimeter. The unfamiliar magic shudders as she pulls the dagger from her flesh, resolve wavering with the pain. His own magic is dissipating, as he calls its influence back, but there’s one stream that stays steady. It shimmers, a glistening tether that’s thrown between Tony and himself. As Bastet spins the dagger, flinging it in an amateurish attempt toward Ironman, Loki watches as Tony propels it aside, taunting her, as his aim hits its mark. Still the sight of his familiar, of Tony, still in danger makes Loki reluctant to weaken the magic between them.

“Barriers go up in five… four…” Bruce begins the countdown, and Loki winces at the thought of what the containment will do to the link that still shines between them. With the wave of a hand Loki is folding the space around the magic, as if to knead dough. Warping the reality, so that the magic is tucked into an empty dimension. Never broken, but still leaving an absence between them that feels all too much like before Loki’s magic had returned to him. Lost as it had been in a similar emptiness.

“Oh.” Tony’s voice comes through the coms, a little breathless for the first time since they had started fighting.

“…and the barriers are up.” Bruce confirms. There’s a flash and a boom, as an explosion cascades out from the side of a nearby building.

“What’s happening?” Steve commands, and can only be glad they evacuated the nearby buildings much earlier.

“Uh oh, looks like we lost one.” Tony says.

“We’ve still got three. Tony if you can just hold her at the centroid for five more seconds while I recalibrate, we’ve got her.” Bruce hums, obviously distracted by his task. Loki is hardly doubtful of Tony’s abilities, watching him duck and spin out of the way of the sorceress’ attacks, but he’s feeling increasingly on edge being withheld from the battle. Bastet cries out in a sort of terrified astonishment as she begins to fall.

“H-Help!” She begs, flailing in the air.

“I’ve got her.” Tony says, swooping just below the horizon of buildings to catch the now powerless woman. “Meet you at ground level Cap.”

The team congregates at the intersection where Tony and the woman stand. Her weapons kicked aside, away from her immediate reach. Tony holds her hands twisted behind her back, as the Captain approaches with the magic-sealing handcuffs. She’s babbling something about a curse, and trying to plead her innocence, but the team doesn’t need Loki to hear her lies. Loki, and Bruce are the only two that remain outside the barriers. The former watching from the very edge, and Bruce in a van a few streets back, collecting the remains of the fourth barrier. As soon as Bastet is being carted off in a non-descript Shield wagon, Tony walks over to Loki. He pauses briefly, his faceplate raised, and takes in a breath before stepping through the barrier. Tony begins to look panicked when nothing seemingly happens.

“Why can’t I feel your magic?” Tony asks, worry in his voice, and Loki feels a sudden but not unusual swell of compassion for the man.

“I had to keep it safe from the containment.” Loki explains, waving his hands, and coaxing their link back into their dimension. Tony sighs in relief.

“It felt so wrong when it disappeared.” He laughs, his hand comes up just left of where Loki’s magic happily wraps around him, and not for the first time Loki wonders how close the mortal is to being able to wield it himself. Tony looks back to where Loki is considering him, and seems to turn bashful at his own comment.

“My magic is quite taken with you too.” Loki reassures letting just enough of a seducing timbre into his words.

“Really?” Tony hums, grinning. He’s not sure whether or not he should be hopeful. Tony doesn’t know what kind of relationship is between them: friends; comrades; potentially more; pet, and pet owner? But the thing about being hopeful, is that you don’t really get to choose if you are or not, only if you want to be. Tony wants to be hopeful. “Only your magic?”

“I might be a little smitten also.” Loki smiles, stepping a little closer.

“SMITTEN FOR HIS KITTEN!” Clint yells out from the window of a van, as he and the rest of the team drive by them.

“Yeah, ok. EYES ON THE ROAD, TWEETY!” Tony yells back. He turns back to Loki. “I guess we have to find our own way home.” Tony holds out his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. “Care for a flight?” Loki smiles warmly.

“I might even care for the man offering.”

 

They’re curled up together on the couch on the common floor, watching old Looney Tunes. Clint had taken to announcing, ‘I taut I taw a puddy tat’ whenever Tony entered a room, and so Tony had promised to enlighten Loki to the reference. Tony is led, unashamedly, across Loki’s lap, while the god repeatedly brushes his long fingers through Tony’s hair.

“You know there’s something that’s been bothering me.” Tony says rolling so that he’s looking up at Loki. Loki gives him a moment to settle into the new position, before tangling his hand back in Tony’s hair.

“What’s that?” Loki asks softly, eyes still analysing the cartoon bird with a conflicted malice.

“Just something Thor said in the fight today.” Tony says, watching as Loki’s face remains entirely unchanged, but he feels the magic between them snap taut. “Who was the third person more divine than Bastet? I could only count two.”

“I know for certain I took an _intelligent_ familiar, Tony Stark.” Loki says, finally dropping his face to look down at Tony. Tony sighs, and decides to sit up for this conversation.

“So the apple, it… made me divine?” Tony asks tentatively. Loki nods.

“Almost immortal.” Loki clarifies. “Virtually indestructible to many weapons. Common Illness, and poisons will hardly inhibit you. You’ll heal fast, and age slowly. You’ll become strong. Stronger than you already are.” Tony is left searching for words. Loki turns away, taking his silence as aversion.

“Well…” Tony begins, wedging their sides together, as close as possible. It almost feels like one of their evenings from when Tony was still feline. He wraps his arms around Loki, before tucking his head into the other’s shoulder, so that his words are pressed into the fabric at Loki’s collarbone. He can feel where Loki shifts to look at him, and tentative arms wind their way around his waist. “…maybe now I can be your something better.”

The chest he is being held to swells as it inhales deeply and then deflates, a relieved sigh washing through his hair. Tony thinks he can agree with the sentiment. When Loki speaks, it’s close. It’s so close. Tony feels his lips pull into a smile, as he tips his head back to look up into too green eyes.

“Foolish creature.” Loki huffs, before leaning down to kiss him. Tony laughs into it, and he can feel Loki smiling against his lips. “You always have been.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Enough to make a cat laugh." Is an adage that basically means: something so ridiculous, it could make a cat laugh. This is what this fic amounts to. Just something fun and fluffy - very fluffy. [See what I did there? *wink*] Hope you enjoyed.


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